Alex Maskara
Thoughts, Stories, Imagination of Filipino American Alex Maskara
Welcome
~
September 23, 2025
Acts 20:17–24
I had a perfect night’s sleep, probably because I resisted napping yesterday even when I was tempted. Jeff visited just as I was about to lie down, and I stayed awake even after he left. Soon after, I found new interests to occupy me—photography has been keeping me alert lately, along with tending my plants.
Yesterday was nearly perfect. I woke up, meditated, and then went out for a walk. I completed four miles at the park and continued walking on the beach, testing my balance and leg strength on the sand. My balance has definitely weakened with age.
I had planned to visit the AT&T branch in Lantana for the new iPhone 17 Pro Max, but I called first. As I suspected, they were sold out, as were the other branches. The phone was just released last Friday, and demand is high. At my age, I can wait. So I returned home.
The rest of the day was spent processing new videos of the beach, which I posted on YouTube and Instagram. My repotted plants are thriving, though I’m not confident about my okra—they look lanky, likely due to insufficient artificial light. I may try growing seeds outdoors in partial shade next.
I experimented with voiceovers in my reels and found them satisfying. I even added captions to ensure clarity behind my accent. I may continue using voiceovers, but I’m cautious not to depend on them. My reels have always been about music and scenery, and with my new DSLR arriving tomorrow, I want to keep that direction alive. So many possibilities lie ahead.
Still, I remind myself not to get consumed by one interest while neglecting others. Reading remains steady, mostly through Audible while walking. Video recording and editing are active. Writing and meditation are ongoing. Photography and gardening now have places in my daily rhythm. What’s missing, as usual, are programming and Spanish practice, which I must fit into my schedule. And, of course, exercise remains part of the routine. In short, I am busy with the things I love.
This morning begins again with meditation. I may drive to the beach early to record stretching exercises while the shore is still quiet. I will continue walking, though cautiously, keeping away from the waves. Later, I’ll tend the garden, check on my repotted plants, perhaps practice photography outdoors, and continue reading Lord of Chaos by Robert Jordan.
The passage today reminds me of the Holy Spirit guiding us where the Lord wills:
“And now, compelled by the Spirit, I am going to Jerusalem, not knowing what will happen to me there. I only know that in every city the Holy Spirit warns me that prison and hardships are facing me. However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.” (Acts 20:22–24)
The prospects Paul faced were grim, yet he said his life was worth nothing apart from completing his task. Reflecting on this, I realize I must avoid overprotecting, overthinking, or overimproving my life in ways that overshadow its spiritual essence. While it is true I should care for my body as God’s temple, I risk becoming too focused on its daily needs while forgetting why it was created in the first place.
This temple exists for God’s glory. The Holy Spirit directs its purpose, and I pray for discernment to hear and follow. Too often, my meditations drift to worldly matters—new hobbies, exercise routines, video editing, or sharing online. None of these touch my soul the way God’s Word does.
What I truly need is to dwell on the words of the Lord and the examples of His saints, like Paul, whose only concern was to fulfill the work given by God. That must also be my way of thinking.
I’ve become more active in my websites lately, especially the fiction one, where anonymity allows me to post spiritual reflections more freely. I’ve written shameful stories in the past, but there are gems among them too. If given a choice, I’d rather fill that space with meditations. Perhaps a struggling soul might stumble upon them and find something useful.
Still, I must remain careful: to meditate on God’s Word itself, not to drift into distractions or feed the desire to be read, admired, or validated. My goal must be to uplift my spirit, not my status.
----
I woke from a good sleep. Yesterday was fulfilling despite the rainy, cloudy weather; I couldn’t walk, but I spent time in the backyard refreshing my seed trays and making sure they were protected from heavy, sporadic downpours. The neighbors were repairing their roof. I wanted to greet them but hesitated because of the language barrier.
I used my action camera and iPhone to record the repotting, and before long I found myself recording another voiceover, narrating my thoughts about the process. Later I started other old seed packets—tomatoes, annuals, perennials. These seedlings are part of my effort to stay active; I refuse to be stagnant all day. I want to keep moving, even if only in small ways.
I also wrote a piece in meditation reacting to the corruption unfolding in the Philippines. Although the draft was detailed, I ran it through ChatGPT for clarity and comprehension; in the process, some phrases—and some details—I’d intended to keep were trimmed away. Next time I’ll limit the edit request to grammar only so I don’t lose the ideas I worked hard to record.
It doesn’t matter. I am narrowing my audience, people no longer flock to my ideas. My reflections are not novel, and I don’t pretend otherwise. What I want now is to record history and to remain “alive” to the family I left behind. My videos will help them recognize me—how I look, how I speak—and perhaps they will someday read my thoughts. It would be tragic if I existed only in their imagination. Sharing myself with them matters.
My earlier writings from my youth are gaining relevance again as the country repeats old patterns. After forty years, I can see how what I imagined then echoes what is happening now. That sense of usefulness—documenting what might otherwise be forgotten—pulls me back to those works. With the help of AI I can at least correct grammar without sacrificing content. These pieces are meant for people who recall the 1980s, when we lived our prime years. Seeing the same issues reappear with new players is both refreshing and frustrating.
Our generation is now the old one. The same people who once fought corruption are now accused of it, while many of those currently stealing were never part of the old struggles. They hid while the real fighters marched in the streets; when the dust settled, they emerged from their caves and began their schemes, forming alliances that enriched them. Now they sit on mountains of ill-gotten wealth, guarded by networks that shrug off justice. The anger of the people simmers beneath the surface; when it erupts, those who plundered the nation will find their fate far less secure than they imagine.
2025-09-24 00:49:32
blog
I feel a tremendous peace at this moment. It is nearly 4 AM, and the world around me is very quiet. I’ve been shifting between the internet, social media, and meditation. Part of me wants to be completely immersed in contemplation, but my mind doesn’t work that way—it has never been trained to focus on one single task. Perhaps someday it will.
Yesterday was fulfilling, except for the extended hours of sleep caused by a new nasal spray I used for my congestion. Its main side effect was drowsiness. I slept through most of the afternoon and didn’t accomplish much. Still, I have no complaints—I enjoyed the rest. I did manage to create two or three reels for Facebook and Instagram, perhaps a bit too many for my friends’ notifications. If I keep this up, some of them may eventually stop following me.
I can’t seem to shake off this nerdy enthusiasm whenever I try something new. Today, it’s gardening; tomorrow, who knows? My life is full of these moments of excitement, as I dive into learning and experimenting, often unaware that others may not share the same enthusiasm. People usually tolerate me out of consideration and respect. If I were still in high school, I’d likely be that classmate stuck in the corner—avoided because a simple “hello” might unleash a flood of endless, boring talk.
I don’t want to end up that way now—shunned by the world for overenthusiasm, or for overdoing things that don’t carry much weight in the bigger scheme of life. Current events today are dominated by politics—Trump in the U.S., corruption in the Philippines. They’re like passing storms, loud for a moment, then fading away. I’ve lived through these cycles before. While I sometimes want to join the fray again, my age and health no longer give me the strength to endure it.
So I remain on the sidelines, watching events unfold, while keeping myself occupied with things that draw little curiosity from others: meditation, blogging, and sharing my thoughts. My audience is small—mostly a few relatives—and I don’t want to overwhelm even them with my energy. That’s why I also use other platforms, like TikTok, YouTube, and my personal websites, where I can express myself freely without disturbing anyone. This freedom to create—whether through writing, photography, or video—settles my often restless heart.
I must admit, this creative drive also springs from loneliness and the deep human need to communicate. Living alone brings both peace and danger. Human beings are social creatures—they need spouses, friends, children, or community. In my youth, I thought I could live without anyone, but that was pride talking. The truth is, no one thrives in isolation. Still, I am blessed: though I may be isolated, I am not abandoned. My roommate Jim offers companionship through his presence, and I also have the option of joining a retirement community in the U.S. or returning home to what remains of my family. Either way, I am not entirely alone. The Lord has been kind to secure my old age with better prospects than many of the patients I once treated in nursing homes. Even so, the rule remains: aging is not easy. All we can do is make the quality of life as good as possible.
Today, being Sunday, I’ve decided to take a break from Facebook and devote the day to quiet contemplation and writing. I will continue to blog—on this site for reflections, and on another about current events in the Philippines—but I will not post them publicly today. My hobbies, like photography with my Canon or filming with my iPhone and action cameras, will still continue, but I want this day to remain restful.
This morning, I tried some video editing, experimenting with TikTok and YouTube again after months of neglect. Using voiceovers has given me new confidence to move into talking videos—teaching, sharing ideas, and lecturing. For someone who has always relied on the written word, this shift feels exciting. Life seems to offer me an endless well of interests, and I am thankful the Lord has guided me toward them. They don’t replace the joy of social companionship, but they help me fill the gaps.
Ultimately, everything comes back to discerning what the Lord wants of me. If I force myself into pursuits out of survival, people-pleasing, or ambition for wealth and recognition, I know I will end in misery. The Lord has already provided for my basic needs. If I still chase more, beyond what is necessary, I have only myself to blame when it collapses.
Earlier, I stepped outside to check my backyard. The sky was swollen with clouds, heavy with the promise of rain, perhaps even a storm. I had hoped to walk in the park, but that will have to wait. Instead, I can exercise indoors, tend to my plants, or do yard work. I am blessed with choices, even on a cloudy Sunday. I brewed my last cup of coffee and returned to the sofa, content to continue this meditation.
There is much to talk about with the Lord—especially about the state of the world. People everywhere are suffering, mostly from the failures of leaders who were meant to serve but instead serve themselves. Corruption has become so deeply ingrained in politics, especially in the Philippines, that the misery of the people is both systemic and cultural. Generations of neglect have left the poor to pay with their time, health, and even family life—sacrificing hours commuting, working, and battling floods, while politicians enrich themselves.
The cycle repeats endlessly: scandals erupt, investigations are staged, protests fill the streets, but soon the outrage fades, replaced by the next scandal. Politicians know this; they count on cultural amnesia to shield them. For decades, I have watched this same script unfold, with only the actors and scenery changing. It leaves me jaded, but I cannot deny that the problem runs deeper than individuals—it is institutional, cultural, even etched into our history.
The Filipino mindset, shaped by centuries of colonization, still draws a line between rulers and the ruled. Leaders are treated as a separate class, almost like monarchs passing their thrones to their children. People mistake wealth, beauty, and foreign ties for leadership, while corruption thrives under this system. This colonized mentality persists—in our politics, in our obsession with beauty pageants, in our craving for foreign approval. It is a wound carried across generations.
I do not condemn my people for this; it is part of who we are, shaped by history. But unless we recognize this flaw in our culture, we will continue to suffer under it.
—To be continued.
2025-09-22 01:10:31
blog
Tuesday Reflection/Corruption
September 23, 2025
Acts 20:17–24
I had a perfect night’s sleep, probably because I resisted napping yesterday even when I was tempted. Jeff visited just as I was about to lie down, and I stayed awake even after he left. Soon after, I found new interests to occupy me—photography has been keeping me alert lately, along with tending my plants.
Yesterday was nearly perfect. I woke up, meditated, and then went out for a walk. I completed four miles at the park and continued walking on the beach, testing my balance and leg strength on the sand. My balance has definitely weakened with age.
I had planned to visit the AT&T branch in Lantana for the new iPhone 17 Pro Max, but I called first. As I suspected, they were sold out, as were the other branches. The phone was just released last Friday, and demand is high. At my age, I can wait. So I returned home.
The rest of the day was spent processing new videos of the beach, which I posted on YouTube and Instagram. My repotted plants are thriving, though I’m not confident about my okra—they look lanky, likely due to insufficient artificial light. I may try growing seeds outdoors in partial shade next.
I experimented with voiceovers in my reels and found them satisfying. I even added captions to ensure clarity behind my accent. I may continue using voiceovers, but I’m cautious not to depend on them. My reels have always been about music and scenery, and with my new DSLR arriving tomorrow, I want to keep that direction alive. So many possibilities lie ahead.
Still, I remind myself not to get consumed by one interest while neglecting others. Reading remains steady, mostly through Audible while walking. Video recording and editing are active. Writing and meditation are ongoing. Photography and gardening now have places in my daily rhythm. What’s missing, as usual, are programming and Spanish practice, which I must fit into my schedule. And, of course, exercise remains part of the routine. In short, I am busy with the things I love.
This morning begins again with meditation. I may drive to the beach early to record stretching exercises while the shore is still quiet. I will continue walking, though cautiously, keeping away from the waves. Later, I’ll tend the garden, check on my repotted plants, perhaps practice photography outdoors, and continue reading Lord of Chaos by Robert Jordan.
The passage today reminds me of the Holy Spirit guiding us where the Lord wills:
“And now, compelled by the Spirit, I am going to Jerusalem, not knowing what will happen to me there. I only know that in every city the Holy Spirit warns me that prison and hardships are facing me. However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.” (Acts 20:22–24)
The prospects Paul faced were grim, yet he said his life was worth nothing apart from completing his task. Reflecting on this, I realize I must avoid overprotecting, overthinking, or overimproving my life in ways that overshadow its spiritual essence. While it is true I should care for my body as God’s temple, I risk becoming too focused on its daily needs while forgetting why it was created in the first place.
This temple exists for God’s glory. The Holy Spirit directs its purpose, and I pray for discernment to hear and follow. Too often, my meditations drift to worldly matters—new hobbies, exercise routines, video editing, or sharing online. None of these touch my soul the way God’s Word does.
What I truly need is to dwell on the words of the Lord and the examples of His saints, like Paul, whose only concern was to fulfill the work given by God. That must also be my way of thinking.
I’ve become more active in my websites lately, especially the fiction one, where anonymity allows me to post spiritual reflections more freely. I’ve written shameful stories in the past, but there are gems among them too. If given a choice, I’d rather fill that space with meditations. Perhaps a struggling soul might stumble upon them and find something useful.
Still, I must remain careful: to meditate on God’s Word itself, not to drift into distractions or feed the desire to be read, admired, or validated. My goal must be to uplift my spirit, not my status.
----
I woke from a good sleep. Yesterday was fulfilling despite the rainy, cloudy weather; I couldn’t walk, but I spent time in the backyard refreshing my seed trays and making sure they were protected from heavy, sporadic downpours. The neighbors were repairing their roof. I wanted to greet them but hesitated because of the language barrier.
I used my action camera and iPhone to record the repotting, and before long I found myself recording another voiceover, narrating my thoughts about the process. Later I started other old seed packets—tomatoes, annuals, perennials. These seedlings are part of my effort to stay active; I refuse to be stagnant all day. I want to keep moving, even if only in small ways.
I also wrote a piece in meditation reacting to the corruption unfolding in the Philippines. Although the draft was detailed, I ran it through ChatGPT for clarity and comprehension; in the process, some phrases—and some details—I’d intended to keep were trimmed away. Next time I’ll limit the edit request to grammar only so I don’t lose the ideas I worked hard to record.
It doesn’t matter. I am narrowing my audience, people no longer flock to my ideas. My reflections are not novel, and I don’t pretend otherwise. What I want now is to record history and to remain “alive” to the family I left behind. My videos will help them recognize me—how I look, how I speak—and perhaps they will someday read my thoughts. It would be tragic if I existed only in their imagination. Sharing myself with them matters.
My earlier writings from my youth are gaining relevance again as the country repeats old patterns. After forty years, I can see how what I imagined then echoes what is happening now. That sense of usefulness—documenting what might otherwise be forgotten—pulls me back to those works. With the help of AI I can at least correct grammar without sacrificing content. These pieces are meant for people who recall the 1980s, when we lived our prime years. Seeing the same issues reappear with new players is both refreshing and frustrating.
Our generation is now the old one. The same people who once fought corruption are now accused of it, while many of those currently stealing were never part of the old struggles. They hid while the real fighters marched in the streets; when the dust settled, they emerged from their caves and began their schemes, forming alliances that enriched them. Now they sit on mountains of ill-gotten wealth, guarded by networks that shrug off justice. The anger of the people simmers beneath the surface; when it erupts, those who plundered the nation will find their fate far less secure than they imagine.
2025-09-24 00:49:32
blog
Sunday Reflection 9/21/2021
I feel a tremendous peace at this moment. It is nearly 4 AM, and the world around me is very quiet. I’ve been shifting between the internet, social media, and meditation. Part of me wants to be completely immersed in contemplation, but my mind doesn’t work that way—it has never been trained to focus on one single task. Perhaps someday it will.
Yesterday was fulfilling, except for the extended hours of sleep caused by a new nasal spray I used for my congestion. Its main side effect was drowsiness. I slept through most of the afternoon and didn’t accomplish much. Still, I have no complaints—I enjoyed the rest. I did manage to create two or three reels for Facebook and Instagram, perhaps a bit too many for my friends’ notifications. If I keep this up, some of them may eventually stop following me.
I can’t seem to shake off this nerdy enthusiasm whenever I try something new. Today, it’s gardening; tomorrow, who knows? My life is full of these moments of excitement, as I dive into learning and experimenting, often unaware that others may not share the same enthusiasm. People usually tolerate me out of consideration and respect. If I were still in high school, I’d likely be that classmate stuck in the corner—avoided because a simple “hello” might unleash a flood of endless, boring talk.
I don’t want to end up that way now—shunned by the world for overenthusiasm, or for overdoing things that don’t carry much weight in the bigger scheme of life. Current events today are dominated by politics—Trump in the U.S., corruption in the Philippines. They’re like passing storms, loud for a moment, then fading away. I’ve lived through these cycles before. While I sometimes want to join the fray again, my age and health no longer give me the strength to endure it.
So I remain on the sidelines, watching events unfold, while keeping myself occupied with things that draw little curiosity from others: meditation, blogging, and sharing my thoughts. My audience is small—mostly a few relatives—and I don’t want to overwhelm even them with my energy. That’s why I also use other platforms, like TikTok, YouTube, and my personal websites, where I can express myself freely without disturbing anyone. This freedom to create—whether through writing, photography, or video—settles my often restless heart.
I must admit, this creative drive also springs from loneliness and the deep human need to communicate. Living alone brings both peace and danger. Human beings are social creatures—they need spouses, friends, children, or community. In my youth, I thought I could live without anyone, but that was pride talking. The truth is, no one thrives in isolation. Still, I am blessed: though I may be isolated, I am not abandoned. My roommate Jim offers companionship through his presence, and I also have the option of joining a retirement community in the U.S. or returning home to what remains of my family. Either way, I am not entirely alone. The Lord has been kind to secure my old age with better prospects than many of the patients I once treated in nursing homes. Even so, the rule remains: aging is not easy. All we can do is make the quality of life as good as possible.
Today, being Sunday, I’ve decided to take a break from Facebook and devote the day to quiet contemplation and writing. I will continue to blog—on this site for reflections, and on another about current events in the Philippines—but I will not post them publicly today. My hobbies, like photography with my Canon or filming with my iPhone and action cameras, will still continue, but I want this day to remain restful.
This morning, I tried some video editing, experimenting with TikTok and YouTube again after months of neglect. Using voiceovers has given me new confidence to move into talking videos—teaching, sharing ideas, and lecturing. For someone who has always relied on the written word, this shift feels exciting. Life seems to offer me an endless well of interests, and I am thankful the Lord has guided me toward them. They don’t replace the joy of social companionship, but they help me fill the gaps.
Ultimately, everything comes back to discerning what the Lord wants of me. If I force myself into pursuits out of survival, people-pleasing, or ambition for wealth and recognition, I know I will end in misery. The Lord has already provided for my basic needs. If I still chase more, beyond what is necessary, I have only myself to blame when it collapses.
Earlier, I stepped outside to check my backyard. The sky was swollen with clouds, heavy with the promise of rain, perhaps even a storm. I had hoped to walk in the park, but that will have to wait. Instead, I can exercise indoors, tend to my plants, or do yard work. I am blessed with choices, even on a cloudy Sunday. I brewed my last cup of coffee and returned to the sofa, content to continue this meditation.
There is much to talk about with the Lord—especially about the state of the world. People everywhere are suffering, mostly from the failures of leaders who were meant to serve but instead serve themselves. Corruption has become so deeply ingrained in politics, especially in the Philippines, that the misery of the people is both systemic and cultural. Generations of neglect have left the poor to pay with their time, health, and even family life—sacrificing hours commuting, working, and battling floods, while politicians enrich themselves.
The cycle repeats endlessly: scandals erupt, investigations are staged, protests fill the streets, but soon the outrage fades, replaced by the next scandal. Politicians know this; they count on cultural amnesia to shield them. For decades, I have watched this same script unfold, with only the actors and scenery changing. It leaves me jaded, but I cannot deny that the problem runs deeper than individuals—it is institutional, cultural, even etched into our history.
The Filipino mindset, shaped by centuries of colonization, still draws a line between rulers and the ruled. Leaders are treated as a separate class, almost like monarchs passing their thrones to their children. People mistake wealth, beauty, and foreign ties for leadership, while corruption thrives under this system. This colonized mentality persists—in our politics, in our obsession with beauty pageants, in our craving for foreign approval. It is a wound carried across generations.
I do not condemn my people for this; it is part of who we are, shaped by history. But unless we recognize this flaw in our culture, we will continue to suffer under it.
—To be continued.
2025-09-22 01:10:31
blog